Chapter Two:
The Origins of Buddhism
<Digital Dictionary of Buddhism> <Buddhanet.net> <Buddhist Tradition(s)>
When presenting Buddhism to a predominantly non-Buddhist audience, there is always a tension between similarity and difference. It is possible to portray Buddhism as being remarkably similar to other major religions such as Christianity or Islam. It is also possible to view Buddhism as radically different from any other religious tradition except, perhaps, Hinduism and Jainism. I try to strike a reasonable balance here. Though I point out ways in which Buddhism resembles other religious traditions, especially Judaism/Christianity, I try to do so without erasing those features of Buddhism which are distinct. At the broadest level, nearly all religions attempt (among other things) to explain the significance of human life, and Buddhism is no exception. Most religions, including Buddhism, deal with the subject of death, for, after all, the fact of inevitable bodily death usually imparts an urgency to the question of the significance of life. Most religions are based on a particular world view, that is, an understanding of how the universe operates. Buddhism inherited much of its world view from Hinduism. This worldview then underwent varying degrees of modification as Buddhism spread from the Indian subcontinent to China, Korea, and Japan. For contemporary Westerners, what might Buddhism have to offer? There are several possible answers, but one that may apply to the broadest number of people, religious or not, is that many Buddhist teachings contain great insight into what today we would call psychology.
"I have come to get your soul, to leave your body and leave it cold. To drop the flesh from off your frame, the earth and worms both have their claim," says the voice of Death in the words of an old Appalachian song (originally a hymn). In response to death, all the singer can say is "Oh Death, oh death, please spare me over for another year." Known by such names as Oh Death or A Conversation with Death, this song speaks to what is in the back of most of our minds, but which contemporary people rarely examine: the inevitable fact of death. (#Listen to "Oh Death"#) This song--and the many others like it--strikes many contemporary people as bizarre and even grotesque (or at least it did until Oh Brother Where Art Thou? put it briefly into the mainstream of popular culture). Why? We could come up with various reasons. For example, the song comes from a time and place (late 19th-century southern Appalachia) in which death took place in the home where all could see it up close. Furthermore, disease and accidents took a greater toll at earlier ages than they typically do today. Life was uncertain and unpredictable, death was inevitable, and everybody knew this point, not as an abstract concept, but as part of lived reality.
The strangeness of Oh Death is not only the result of the song's context. In the contemporary United States, death usually takes place in the sanitized confines of a hospital, presided over by medical experts. Consider political discourse. The expression "it saves lives" has become a powerful piece of legal/political rhetoric that can be and is used to justify a wide range of governmental interventions into our personal and economic lives. Many people seem to act as if death can be avoided or indefinitely forestalled. Consider the following point from Antonia Levi:
It's not just that American TV doesn't deal with the subject of death. American TV actively avoids it. So does every other aspect of American society. Death is American's new obscenity, something you don't mention in public and especially in front of the young. The schools, worried by rising teen suicide rates, actively discourage texts and topics that might seem depressing. Book publishers and Disney studios alike seem determined to tag happy, death-free endings onto even time-honored classics like The Little Mermaid.1
Of course we can point to some apparent exceptions, that is, to recent mass media attempts to deal with death, but there is a major problem says Levi:
Sadly, the few American media attempts to deal with death, mourning, and the afterlife, movies like Ghost or TV series like Highway to Heaven or Touched by an Angel, do preach. Eventually everything is resolved. the bad are punished and the good are rewarded. The survivors are comforted by the knowledge that those they have lost have gone to a better place.2
The problem with this approach to death is that it is unrealistic. Glorious, meaningful, or just deaths may take place from time to time, but death is more often, unexpected, purposeless, unjust, random, violent, and painful. Furthermore, the fact of death inevitably raises the age-old question of the purpose of life. Uneasiness in the face of death undoubtedly gave rise to the world's wide range of religions.
The psychologist Erich Fromm wrote insightfully about death, its significance for life, and the consequences of our modern society's efforts to suppress it. In Fear of Freedom (1942), for example, Fromm points out:
There is one tabooed emotion that I want to mention in particular, because its suppression touches deeply on the roots of personality: the sense of tragedy. . . . the awareness of death and of the tragic aspect of life, whether dim or clear, is one of the basic characteristics of man. . . . Our own era simply denies death and with it one fundamental aspect of life. Instead of allowing the awareness of death and suffering to become one of the strongest incentives for life, the basis for human solidarity, and an experience without which joy and enthusiasm lack intensity and depth, the individual is forced to repress it. But, as is always the case with repression, by being removed from sight the repressed elements do not cease to exist. Thus the fear of death lives an illegitimate existence among us. (Erich Fromm, The Fear of Freedom [New York: Routledge, 1991, 1995]. First Published in Great Britain in 1942 as Escape from Freedom, pp. 211-212.)
Oh Death and its many morbid counterparts in traditional Appalachian music (with roots in old European ballads) are, of course, closely connected with Christianity. But with only a few minor terminological modifications, such songs could also be Buddhist. More so than any of the major religious traditions, Buddhism often addresses the fact of *death head on.* To many contemporary Americans, this focus on death is uncanny. But try to get used to it--at least temporarily. To understand the original teachings of Buddhism, it is necessary to *think about death.* Look at this classic Buddhist artwork from Japan: *shown here* are scenes from an illustrated scroll. The basic plot is that a young women in the prime of life suddenly becomes ill, dies, rots, decays, becomes food for other organisms, and is re-absorbed into the earth. It will happen to all of us. "The old, the young, the rich, or poor are all alike with me you know," says death in Oh Death, "No wealth, no land, no silver, nor gold--nothing satisfied me but your soul." (Incidentally, the medieval series of images shown in the previous link inspired many later artistic endeavors. #Here# is Kawanabe Kyōsai's late nineteenth century interpretation.)
As we will see in this and subsequent chapters, Buddhism developed many complex doctrines that purport to explain how humans and the universe they inhabit function. At the root of these doctrines, however, is death and the anxiety death causes. The best way to get started on this topic is to examine the story of the life of the Buddha. Before we do so, however, we should pause to clarify some names and terms.
What today we call "Buddhism" originated in northern India at approximately the same time Confucius was active in China (though there was no contact or connection at that time). The word "buddha" means "enlightened one." In theory at least, anyone can attain enlightenment, and thus anyone can become a Buddha. What it means to be "enlightened" is rather complex, so for now just think of it as a superior spiritual state, and we will examine it in more detail later. Despite the potential for Buddhahood in all of us, unless otherwise specified, the term "the Buddha" usually refers to a specific enlightened human with the personal name of Siddhartha Gautama. Born around 500 BCE, in present-day Nepal, Siddhartha Gautama died eighty years later.3 He was a prince of a small kingdom and a member of the Shakya (also spelled Sakya) clan. Owing to his clan affiliation, he came to be called Shakyamuni (also spelled Sakyamuni), which means "sage of the Shakya clan." As a result of his personal quest for spiritual enlightenment, Shakyamuni ended up starting a new religion, Buddhism, that would eventually have a major impact on East Asia. There is little reliable biographical data on Shakyamuni, but there are numerous tales about his life. Although fictional, these tales are an excellent source for understanding early Buddhist issues and teachings. Below we examine what has come to be the quasi-official story of the Buddha's life. First, read this *brief synopsis.*
According to one of the several versions of Shakyamuni's life, his royal parents were overprotective of their precious child. Wanting to shelter him from the harsh realities of life, they insisted he never leave the gates of the palace compound. Within those gates, they sought to satisfy his every desire. The young Shakyamuni grew into his teenage years amid this sheltered, luxurious environment.
Curiosity propels people to want what is forbidden, and the teenage Shakyamuni became increasingly interested in seeing the world beyond the palace walls. He persuaded a chariot driver to take him out in secret one day, and they came upon a sick person laying on the ground. The Buddha-to-be had no conception of sickness, owing to his sheltered life. So the chariot driver had to explain to Shakyamuni the nature of sickness. Shakyamuni was shocked to learn that despite his wealth and high status, he was not immune from falling ill.
This sight was the first of what are called the *"Four Noble Sights"* or simply the "Four Sights." These sights served as a wakeup call to Shakyamuni and motivated him to leave the palace in search of truth. The second time out with the chariot driver, they came upon an old man, whose physical strength and vitality were gone. As in the previous case, Shakyamuni was shocked to realize that he too was likely to end up in a similarly decrepit condition. The third time out, they encountered a corpse, and the driver explained the inevitability of death. The realization that he would certainly die caused Sakyamuni to feel his luxurious life in the palace was pointless. The fourth time out, Sakyamuni saw a wandering holy man, a common sight in India of those days and even today. The Buddha-to-be realized that it was possible to face the profound questions connected with life and death and systematically search for the truth. Even though he had just been married, he made up his mind to abandon his life in the palace and take up the path a of a wandering holy man.
In an act known as the Great Renunciation, Shakyamuni left the palace one night, never to return (#image#). He soon joined a group of wandering ascetics. An ascetic is one who practices extreme self-denial or self-mortification for religious reasons. Asceticism was and is a prominent theme in the religious life of the Indian subcontinent (especially Hinduism and Jainism). For six years, Shakyamuni fasted, exposed himself to the elements, and meditated. He faced suffering and pain head on in an attempt to master or conquer it. By now we can see the major theme in early Buddhism: suffering--its causes and how to transcend it.
The methods of the ascetics, however, ultimately proved to be of little benefit. After six years, Shakyamuni was on the *verge of death* from self-inflicted starvation and exposure, but he felt no closer to realizing the truths of existence and the nature of suffering. He realized that all those years of effort produced no worthwhile result. He therefore left the band of wandering ascetics and set out on his own solitary quest. In this next phase of his life, he did not indulge his physical or psychological desires, nor did he abuse his body. Shakyamuni called this path between the extremes of self-mortification and self-indigence the Middle Way. He continued to meditate, and three years after taking up the Middle Way, he finally became a buddha. In other words, he finally became enlightened. (Let us not worry about the precise definition of enlightenment for the time being. For now, consider it a state of unusually deep spiritual insight.)
The enlightenment came while Sakyamuni was sitting in meditation under a bodhi tree ("wisdom tree"). At that time, the soon-to-be-Buddha, faced one last obstacle. Sensing that he was about to become enlightened, the demon Mara sent down his agents to *attack and upset* Sakyamuni. Among these agents were Mara's beautiful daughters, who tried to seduce Sakyamuni. Also, fierce, sword-wielding demons tried to frighten him. Despite this assault, however, Sakyamuni remained perfectly calm. He no longer had any emotional attachment to such things as sexual desire or self-preservation in the face of danger. He had become enlightened, and Mara's minions could do nothing to reverse the process. They eventually fled. The #attack of Mara# and his agents, of course, should be taken as a metaphor for the constant pull of emotions and desires that affect the average person. Most people are easily swayed by sexual desire, fright, the possibility of acquiring material possessions, desires for comfort, and so forth. It was these things that the Buddha transcended in the process of becoming enlightened. (Linguistic trivia: the word mara 魔羅, named after the Mara discussed here, was once a commonly-used vulgar term for the male organ in Japanese. It was originally a term used by Buddhist monks and then spread broadly through society, though it is no longer common today.)
For several years after his enlightenment, the Buddha continued to meditate in silence because he was certain that the experience of enlightenment was too profound to communicate to others. Then, one day his former companions saw him seated under the wisdom tree. It was obvious from the Buddha's #radiant appearance# and *other physical features* that he had attained an enlightened state. (Later Buddhists would identify thirty-three physical characteristics of an enlightened being. We examine them later in the course.) The former companions begged the Buddha for instruction. Moved by a feeling of compassion for suffering beings, the Buddha attempted to put his enlightenment experience into words. In a deer park in northern India, he faced his former companions and other interested persons and #preached a sermon.# This preaching, incidentally, was the primordial act of skillful means, a topic we take up in a later chapter.
The Buddha and a growing band of followers roamed around the northern parts of the Indian subcontinent. As the years went by, the Buddha systematized his teachings and established an order of monks dedicated to following his middle path. At age eighty, he died--after eating contaminated food, according to legend--and *entered a state of nirvana,* (#detail#) never again to be reborn (this concept is explained below). The Buddha's followers continued to practice and develop his teachings.
Remember that this account of the Buddha's life cannot be verified, and events like the Four Sights are almost certainly fictional. The story of the Buddha's life, however, is extremely valuable because it points out the major issues in early Buddhism: suffering, transcending desires, and methods for attaining an enlightened state. And it is also a fundamental part of the literary and symbolic culture of Buddhist-influenced areas of the world. We turn now to an examination of early Buddhist teachings.
The Dharma: Core Buddhist Teachings
Hindu Background <> The Four Noble Truths <> The Problem: Our Sense of Self <> The Eightfold Path
In the Buddha's day, several religious traditions existed on the Indian subcontinent, the most important of which was Hinduism. Hinduism is a broad term (much like Christianity) to designate a large number of different but related systems of religious belief and practice. Hinduism is so complex that we cannot possibly do it justice here. Our concern is simply with a few major tenets of Hinduism that became a major influence on Buddhism (#List of similarities and differences between Buddhism and Hinduism#).
In many of its forms, Hinduism is much concerned with cycles of creation and destruction. The most important Hindu deities, for example, are sometimes depicted simultaneously destroying and creating. Such deities serve as symbols of the forces of nature, which both create and destroy without cease. One creator/destroyer deity is Shiva, the cosmic dancer (*shown here*). Shiva is usually depicted as male, and one of his symbols is the linga (phallus). But some depictions of Shiva show "him" with female features or with both male and female features. If depicted clearly as a male deity, Shiva is often depicted with a female counterpart. Such images of Shiva emphasize his role in creation, but Shiva, is also a destroyer. His cosmic dance takes away life for some while giving it to others. Other examples of creator/destroyer deities are Kali and Durga, who are almost always depicted as female.
Deities like Shiva, Kali, and Durga are concrete representations of a key concept in Hinduism and Buddhism: reincarnation, also called transmigration. As it applies to sentient beings, when a person or animal dies, its vital forces become re-embodied and it is born into a new life. When that life is over, it is reborn again, *over and over.* This cycle of reincarnation, called Samsara (#image#) is like a prison in which we are trapped. Why? Stated somewhat crudely, because we can never die and stay dead. Think about the prospect of never dying--it would be terrifying for many people.
Samsara is closely connected with *karma.* In Hinduism, the word karma has three closely related meanings. Most basically, it is any mental or physical deed. Karma is also the consequence of any mental or physical deed, and by extension, it can also mean the sum of all consequences of a person's mental and physical deeds in a past or present life. When speaking of karma in this third meaning, it is more accurate to use a term like "karmic situation" or "karmic balance."
Buddhist conceptions of karma were similar to those of Hindus. Early Buddhists stressed the role of karma in powering or driving the process of reincarnation. In this context, think of karma as energy connected with desires and cravings that seeks re-embodiment after death (there are other meanings of karma in Buddhist theology, but we will not take them up here). People want things, strive to attain goals, crave certain sensations, covet certain possessions, yearn for a better life, and so forth. These wants, strivings, cravings, covetings, and yearnings are a form of energy. Indeed, they produce significant, palpable effects: sleeplessness, higher blood pressure, ulcers, other physiological changes, as well as behavior such as working overtime, not working (in the case of coveting short-term ease or comfort), crime, heroism, and so forth. Our desires and other powerful emotions, in other words, *propel us from one birth to the next.* This concept has a certain intuitive appeal, for of course it is literally a burst of desire or passion that causes births.
This idea of karma has several implications. First, it suggests that our mental and physical deeds in the present lifetime will have an effect in determining the nature of our rebirth. In other words, if we reduce the sum of desires over our lifetime and perform good deeds (i.e., selfless deeds that benefit others), our karmic balance will improve (i.e., we will have less karma). Such a person will be reborn into a better life the next time around. Conversely, a lifetime of indulging our desires and performing deeds to satisfy them will accumulate more karma. Such a person will be reborn into a lower, more base existence, perhaps as an animal.
Is there any way to get out of the cycle of Samsara? Yes, but only over the course of many lifetimes, lowering the karmic balance each time around--at least according to most forms of Hinduism. When all karma is finally gone, there is no more energy to drive the cycle of Samsara. In a sense, it runs out of fuel. A person in such a situation would enter a state called nirvana--a word that means "to extinguish"--and *would not be reborn.* What is nirvana like? Nirvana is so radically different from the modes of existence we occupy, that *words cannot describe it* nor can we even imagine it. But most Hindus saw Samsara as a living hell or prison. The chance to escape from it and enter into nirvana, therefore is a desirable goal. An important legacy that Buddhism inherited from Hinduism was a generally negative or pessimistic view of life in this world.
Another Hindu teaching that became an important part of Buddhism was the doctrine of ahimsa, or not harming. To cause pain, suffering or death to another sentient being increases one's karmic burden or debt. Notice that karma is perfect justice. To the extent that a person produces it, that person must, quite literally, live with it--over multiple of lifetimes if necessary. Most forms of Hinduism and Buddhism prohibit consuming the flesh of animals. One should eat only those things that do not cause death, even to plants. Fruit, therefore, is a perfect food, since eating it does not harm the plant from which it came. (Jainism is a religion of India that takes not harming most seriously. A strict Jain will sweep the path in front of him with a soft feather duster as he walks, to avoid stepping on small insects. He will also wear a gauze mask to prevent accidentally inhaling small insects. Incidentally, some extremely dedicated Jains take the quest for reducing karma so seriously that they stop wearing clothes and even starve themselves to death.)
The final contribution of Hinduism to Buddhism we examine here concerns deities. Hinduism contains thousands of greater and lesser deities. As we will see, the Buddha's original teachings had nothing to do with deities or external supernatural forces of any kind. All religions change over time, however, and as the centuries passed, Buddhism incorporated hundreds of Hindu deities into its teachings, art, and iconography. A large pantheon of deities, therefore, is another important Hindu legacy in Buddhism. In the most scholastic, abstract teachings of Hindu theology, deities do not actually exist. The purpose of deities and their representations in Hinduism is to assist those at lower levels of comprehension by providing concrete images of various religious truths. As we shall see when studying the doctrine of Skillful Means, this understanding of deities also became the (Mahayana) Buddhist view.
The basic teaching of the Buddha is called the Dharma, a term that also has other meanings in Buddhist theology that need not concern us here. The symbol of the Dharma is a wheel, particularly one with eight spokes. The core of the Dharma consists of two parts: the Four Noble Truths and the Eightfold Path. The *Four Noble Truths* summarize the Buddha's insight into the nature of reality and human existence. The Eightfold Path is a method, a series of steps, by which a person can retrace the Buddha's own quest for enlightenment.
Recall the context of the Buddha's first sermon, at least according to legend. After his former companions begged him to communicate his enlightenment experience, the Buddha did so, or at least attempted to do so, out of compassion for their suffering. He called his teaching the "Middle Way."4 The audience to whom the Buddha preached consisted of religious seekers, and most English translations of the first sermon refer to them as "monks." The sermon began with an explanation of the Middle Way:
These two extremes, O monks, are not to be practiced by one who has gone forth from the world. What are the two? That conjoined with passions, low, vulgar, common, ignoble, and useless, and that conjoined with self-torture, painful, ignoble, and useless. Avoiding these two extremes, [the enlightened one] has gained the knowledge of the Middle Way, which gives sight and knowledge, and tends to calm, to insight, enlightenment, nirvana.5
Having explained the general principle of avoiding extremes, the Buddha then got to the heart of the matter: his insights into the condition of human existence. He continued:
This, O monks is the Middle Way: . . .
(1) Now this, O monks, is the noble truth of pain: birth is painful, old age is painful, sickness is painful, death is painful, sorrow, lamentation, dejection, and despair are painful. Contact with unpleasant things is painful, not getting what one wishes is painful. In short the five skandhas of grasping [form, sensation, conception, volition, and consciousness--see discussion below] are painful.
(2) Now this, O monks is the noble truth of the cause of pain: that craving which leads to rebirth [note the discussion of karma above], combined with pleasure and lust, finding pleasure here and there, namely, the craving for passion, the craving for existence, the craving for non-existence.
(3) Now this, O monks, is the noble truth of the cessation of pain: the cessation without a remainder of that craving, [namely,] abandonment, forsaking, release, non-attachment.
(4) Now this, O monks, is the noble truth of the way that leads to the cessation of pain: this is the noble Eightfold Path, namely, right views, right intention, right speech, right action, right livelihood, right endeavor, right mindfulness, right concentration. . . .
Knowledge arose in me; insight arose that the release of my mind is unshakable; this is my last existence; now there is no rebirth.6
All around us are things we do not have. Most of us, for example, do not have a Rolls Royce car, and yet few suffer because of this lack. Not having something, in other words, does not itself cause us to suffer. It is the desire to have what we do not that causes us to suffer. The Buddha concluded not that life contains suffering (which would hardly have been insightful), but that suffering is so integral to human life that for all practical purposes, life is suffering. To put an end to the suffering, we must put an end to desires. If we succeed in eliminating all desires, then we also eliminate life as we know it. The result is a state called nirvana, in which one loses all sense of self and merges with the cosmos. Entering nirvana is the ultimate goal of most forms of Buddhism.
Some would object to the Buddha's formulation by suggesting that people simply satisfy our desires, which would prevent the suffering associated with them. This "solution," however only makes things worse in the long run. Lesser desires, when apparently satisfied, actually produce greater desires--the starting assumption of economics. The person without any car at all might be delighted with an old, used one. Soon, however, the car loses its appeal and the desire for a new one wells up. Having saved and sacrificed for the new car, the desire for a better model rears its ugly head. It is such a person who would eventually suffer by lacking a Rolls Royce. Vain attempts to eliminate suffering by "satisfying" desires only creates stronger desires and thus worse suffering.
Writing circa 1942, psychologist Erich Fromm addresses this matter in a way that echoes basic Buddhist teachings:
. . . modern man seems, if anything, to have too many wishes and his only problem seems to be that, although he knows what he wants, he cannot have it. All our energy is spent for the purpose of getting what we want, and most people never question the premise of this activity: that they know their true wants. They do not stop to think whether the aims they are pursuing are something they themselves want. In school they want to have good marks, as adults they want to be more and more successful, to make more money, to have more prestige, to buy a better car, to go places, and so on. Yet when they do stop to think in the midst of all this frantic activity, this question may come to their minds: "If I do get this new job, if I get this better car, if I can take this trip—then what? What is the use of it all? Is it really I who want this? Am I not running after some goal which is supposed to make me happy and which eludes me as soon as I have reached it?" These questions, when they arise, are frightening, for they question the very basis on which man’s whole activity is built, his knowledge of what he wants. People tend, therefore, to get rid as soon as possible of these disturbing thoughts. They feel that they have been bothered by these questions because they were tired or depressed—and they go on in pursuit of the aims which they believe are their own.
Yet all this bespeaks a dim realization of the truth—the truth that modern man lives under the illusion that he knows what he wants, while he actually wants what he is supposed to want. In order to accept this it is necessary to realize that to know what one really wants is not comparatively easy, as most people think, but one of the most difficult problems any human being has to solve. It is a task we frantically try to avoid by accepting ready-made goals as thought they were our own. Modern man is ready to take great risks when he tries to achieve the aims which are supposed to be "his"; but he is deeply afraid of taking the risk and the responsibility of giving himself his own aims. . . . (Erich Fromm, The Fear of Freedom [New York: Routledge, 1991, 1995]. First Published in Great Britain in 1942 as Escape from Freedom, pp. 217-218.)
Notice that Fromm's emphasis on our lack of de facto autonomy. After all most of us go through life with our wants and desires dictated to us by social expectations, and we chase after them with vigor. Even if we vaguely recognize the folly of our ways late in life, we dare not admit to having wasted so many years and so much effort. And, in any event, as parents (for most people, at least), we have already worked hard to foster this same mentality in our offspring. Although classical Buddhist teachings about desires address the matter in slightly different terms and from a completely different metaphysical basis, in practice, the Buddhist message is essentially the same as Fromm's: Wake up! Look deep inside yourself and do the hard work of understanding who you really are! Cast aside the illusions with which society has encumbered you!
The Buddha preached his sermon to persons who already possessed sophisticated religious knowledge and experience. He and his audience shared many common assumptions. Therefore, prior to examining the Eightfold path, we should survey the most important of these assumptions.
The Problem: Our Sense of Self
We have seen that desires cause suffering, but to eliminate desires, we must first understand their source. What causes desires? From where do they originate? The basic answer is our sense of existence as a distinct individual, in other words, our sense of self. Nirvana is the complete absence of this sense of self. Without any sense of self whatsoever, a person cannot exist as a distinct individual. In our present state of self-ish existence, nirvana is inconceivable. But suffering is easily conceivable, and characterizing nirvana as the complete absence of suffering or liberation from suffering made its attainment an appealing goal to many in ancient India and elsewhere.
If the sense of self is the source of desires that make our lives constant suffering, we must inquire into what constitutes this sense of self. What makes the thought "I am" seem natural, obvious, and unproblematic? According to basic Buddhist teaching, it is the "Five Heaps" (also called the "Five Aggregates") (1) matter or form; (2) sensation or perception; (3) conception; (4) volition; and (5) consciousness. The teaching that the Five Heaps constitutes our sense of self is extremely difficult to comprehend because it is so foreign to our common-"sensical" feeling that "of course, I am, I really am." One introductory text on Buddhism explains the matter as follows:
One of the most central of Buddhist ideas is that there is no self. The sense of self that we naively cling to is seen by the naked eye of meditation to be only a tenuous, ever-shifting amalgam of psychological elements, known traditionally as the five skandhas, or "heaps." . . . A key point is duality, which arises at the first skandha, form. Duality is a description for the most basic characteristic of the confused world of ego, the rudimentary building block of the suffering world of samsara.7
Notice the phrase "seen by the naked eye of meditation." Buddhist practice relies on *various techniques of meditation,* which, if practiced diligently over many years, enable practitioners to see themselves and their world in radically different ways. To really understand the Five Heaps, would require years of effort. Nevertheless, let us attempt to summarize them in relatively simple terms.
The first heap, "form," is a state of ignorance. For some reason (and I have yet to see a clear explanation given--it seems an article of faith), humans began to notice that the world around them was separate from themselves. It really was not separate, but people nevertheless began to notice forms distinct from themselves instead of undifferentiated, open space.
Having made the mistake of seeing the surrounding world as something separate, people defensively seek to preserve this incorrect vision. They do so by trying to experience that separate world through sensory perceptions. "So we begin to reach out and feel the qualities of 'other.' By doing this we reassure ourselves that we exist."8 Feeling is the second heap.
Fascinated with what the senses have created, people seek to explore it further, resulting in the third heap of conception. People create categories, distinctions, and theories to explain their differentiated world. They receive information from "outside" themselves and react to it on the basis of these categories, distinctions, and theories.
The fourth heap, volition, is much like the third. The major difference is that the third is a passive process, the result of reacting to incoming information. In the fourth heap, the process becomes active. Human agents volitionally seek to name, classify and categorize all existence. People become obsessed with attaching names to the artificial realities they have created.
Consciousness, the fifth heap, is the culmination of the previous four to produce the thoughts and emotions that for most people define their individual identities and their world views. At this stage, "we find the six realms [see Chapter 4] as well as the uncontrollable and illogical patterns of discursive thought."9 At this point, desires connected with the false sense of self feed on each other, making life constant suffering and, as karma, propelling us from one existence into another.
Human actions continually reaffirm the false sense of self. Language is the ultimate tool for affirming the artificial world of names, categories and distinctions, making it seem obvious and real, and blocking out any possibility of perceiving the undifferentiated unity that exists prior to the Five Heaps. The nonstop internal conversation most people carry on inside their heads while awake may be the single greatest obstacle to enlightenment.
Let us pause to look at the broader picture, the context in which the *Five Heaps* play a key role. Here is how the universe works according to basic Buddhist teaching as explained in an introductory book: "For the Buddhist, the universe is a place of delusion and suffering, in which living beings--who are, if they but knew it, mere collections of "aggregates" [=heaps], forever fickle and changing--are condemned by their passions [=desires] to an endless cycle of rebirths."10 By way of a summary, what follows is part of the text of the Buddha's sermon on dependent origination (the idea that what seems permanent and "real" is but the product of sensory creation, one thing creating another without stop). Notice as you read through it that the excerpt covers nearly every major point made thus far in the chapter:
On ignorance depends karma;
On karma depends consciousness;
On consciousness depends name and form;
On name and form depend the six organs of sense;
On the six organs of sense depends contact;
On contact depends sensation;
On sensation depends desire;
On attachment depends existence;
On existence depends birth; On birth depend old age and death, sorrow, lamentation, misery, grief, and despair. Thus does the entire aggregation of misery arise.11
Having surveyed what Buddhists (and many Hindus as well) consider the major problems with human consciousness and existence, let us now turn to the Buddha's proposed solution.
The Eightfold Path is often symbolized by the #eight spokes of a wheel.# Its ultimate goal is to lead to a person to enlightenment. While it may be possible for someone to accomplish all eight steps in one lifetime, most people will make slow progress over many lifetimes. In this scenario, the improved karmic state in each round leads to a better rebirth, which sets the stage for further progress. (The Buddha himself, according to legend, went through numerous past lives before his attainment of nirvana. Stories of events in these past lives (especially the Jataka Tales) serve as Buddhist parables to teach good behavior.) The Eightfold Path is not something that one can normally accomplish quickly or easily. We consider it here one step at a time. (#more detailed text#)
1. Right views is to know suffering, the origin of suffering, the cessation of suffering, and the path that leads to the cessation of suffering.
The first step, in other words, is to know and accept the Four Noble Truths. This may sound easy, but how many of you reading this now genuinely accept the assertion that life is suffering as a fundamental truth? Even for those living in a cultural environment influenced by Buddhism, the Four Noble Truths are difficult for many to accept as truths. Indeed, in all religions, there are often many who mouth the official doctrine, but far fewer who genuinely take it to heart.
One aspect of the Four Noble Truths that we have not stressed sufficiently thus far is impermanence. The phenomena of this world are transient and fleeting, here today gone tomorrow. So, too, are we. The world we can perceive is temporary, yet people strive and strain in a futile effort to make it permanent. Most people live their lives as if they will never die--an absurd delusion according to Buddhist teaching.
2. Right resolve is the resolve to renounce the world and to do no hurt or harm.
Once a person accepts the Four Noble Truths as truths, the next step toward enlightenment is to resolve to act on that realization. Renouncing the world is to reject what sense of self has created. Doing so, however, is easier said than done. An initial step in the right direction is to do no additional harm to self or others. Take some simple, concrete steps. Stop eating meat, for example, cancel those subscriptions to Playboy and Playgirl, and refrain from anger the next time an obnoxious driver nearly runs you off the road. Do not make the suffering of life any worse for anyone.
3. Right speech is to abstain from lies and slander, from reviling, and from gossip.
Because the act of talking is so influential in defining the human world, it should receive attention early on. Step three is a more specific case of step two: do not increase the suffering of anyone, including yourself, by what you say. Is this possible? Could a person completely refrain from gossip, for example? Although rare, we could find someone whose speech does no harm. Step number three, while difficult, is still within the realm of the possible without going through any special or extraordinary training.
4. Right action is to abstain from taking life, from stealing, and from lechery.
This one seems straightforward. Regarding the first item, hunters should certainly find something better to do, and we should not go out and commit murder--but there is more. Have you ever consumed the flesh of a once-living creature? How many insects have you killed, accidentally or otherwise? And what about that mousetrap in the garage and the fly swatter on the windowsill? When measured against strict Buddhist standards, most of us would appear to be mass murderers. To what extent might we also be thieves and lechers?
5. Right livelihood is that by which the disciple of the Noble One supports himself, to the exclusion of wrong modes of livelihood.
Notice that this step pertains to "the disciple of the Noble One." The phrase probably refers to one who has taken formal Buddhist vows, though not at the level of a monk. Such a person lives in the community but has dedicated his life to the pursuit of the Buddhist path. Naturally, such a person must engage in the proper means of making a living, namely, doing work of benefit to others. Were the Buddha transported across time and placed into today's world, which occupations might be acceptable and which ones not? By what criteria would he decide (hint: think of the Four Noble Truths)? Which present-day occupation would be most opposed to the Buddha's basic teachings?
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6. Right endeavor is when a monk brings his will to bear, puts forth endeavor and energy, struggles and strives with all his heart to stop bad and wrong qualities that have not yet arisen from ever arising, to renounce those that have already arisen, and, finally, to establish, clarify, multiply, enlarge, develop, and perfect those good qualities already present.
This portion of the path explains the initial goal of meditation for monks. A monk is one who lives apart from the broader community in austere conditions to pursue the quest for enlightenment full time. Stage six, therefore, indicates a major step up in commitment and seriousness. There is no explicit mention of meditation here, but for the Buddha's audience, that meditation was the primary technique for attaining enlightenment would have been obvious.
What are some of the basic procedures and goals in meditation? Meditation is a form of introspective contemplation. One begins a session of meditation by sitting in the correct posture (there are several possibilities), always with the back held perfectly straight. For the uninitiated, just the posture alone becomes quite painful within a few minutes. More difficult is shutting off the internal conversation. The constant banter inside our heads has at least two undesirable effects. First, it constantly re-affirms the false sense of separate self. Second, it serves as a barrier to true introspection. In other words, the intra-cranial chatter prevents comprehending the true character of our minds. The first and most important step in meditation, therefore, is stopping the internal conversation. Try doing so for just one minute. To most people, stopping this conversation seems impossible, so accustomed we have grown to it. The ability to stop the internal conversation may take years to acquire, and there are numerous techniques to assist in this task. One of the most basic is focusing all attention on the *rhythmic inward and outward flow of the breath.* Merging one's full attention into this tide-like movement and becoming one with it is a tried and proven method for suspending the internal conversation. There are other concentration and visualization techniques in meditation, which me may have a chance to examine later.
Upon successful at suspension of the internal conversation, the meditator gains great insight into his or her mental states and feelings owing to an acute awareness of sensory perceptions and sensations as they first begin to form deep within the mind. Like buds on a plant, should any of these perceptions or sensations be improper (a feeling of anger, for example), the meditator can *nip it at the bud* before it becomes fully manifest. Proper perceptions and sensations, on the other hand (like a feeling of compassion) are allowed to become fully manifest. In this way, a monk can purify his thoughts and feelings, making them wholly good. (The average person, head full of chatter, is unaware of these perceptions and sensations until they have become fully manifest. At that point, it is too late to do anything about them.)
7. Right mindfulness is when, realizing what the body is--what feelings are--what the heart is--and what the mental states are--a monk dwells ardent, alert, and mindful, in freedom from the wants and discontents attendant on any of these things.
This stage builds upon the previous one. Notice that in number six, a monk actively strives and makes effort. That effort having had its effect, in stage seven, a monk ceases to strive. He has realized the truth about his own mental states, feelings, etcetera, and they no longer have any hold on him. His body may have gone without food for a long time, for example, and the monk knows that the feeling of hunger is present, but this feeling no longer causes him to desire to eat. A person at this stage is no longer a slave to the desires of his or her body and mind.
8. Right [rapture of] concentration is when, divested of lusts and divested of wrong dispositions, a monk develops and dwells in the first ecstasy with all its zest and satisfaction, a state bred of aloofness and not divorced from observation and reflection. By laying to rest observation and reflection, he develops and dwells in inward serenity, in [the] focusing of heart, in the zest and satisfaction of the second ecstasy, which is divorced from observation and reflection and is bred of concentration--passing thence to the third and fourth ecstasies.
This final stage is subdivided in to four "ecstasies," the last two of which are so profound that words cannot describe them. In the first ecstasy, a monk is entirely aloof from his former mental states and modes of perception, though he is still able to observe and reflect on them. Here, observation and reflection are his last link with the "ordinary" world. Finally, he abandons even these, which sets in motion a process that ends in enlightenment.
Notice several important characteristics of this Eightfold Path. First, it is a stepwise progression, starting with relatively easy (if still difficult) tasks that become increasingly more demanding. Second, this is an arduous path, even in its early stages. Third, following the Eightfold Path is a personal quest. There is no superior being on whom to rely or to provide guidance, and there are no deities (deities come into Buddhism after it developed into a formal religion). The locus of the power to find enlightenment is within each person.
This concludes our survey of the basic teachings of the original Buddha. The next chapter looks at the development of Buddhism as a formal religion and social institution.
1. Antonia Levi, Samurai from Outer Space: Understanding Japanese Animation (Chicago: Open Court, 1996), pp. 107-8.
2. Ibid., p. 108.
3. There are numerous conflicting theories of the Buddha's terminal dates. Scholars of Buddhism have proposed 565-486 BCE, 463-383 BCE, and 624-544 BCE, and other dates. I recommend simply remembering 500 BCE as the approximate time of Shakyamuni's life.
4. The term "Middle Way" here does not mean the avoidance of extremes. Instead, it indicates the Buddhist idea of non-duality, i.e., the principle of reality that lies beyond existence and non-existence. More concretely, the "Middle Way" gradually liberates a person from the sense of "I" as an individuated self. See the discussion of the Five Heaps for more on this point.
5. Quoted in Sarvepalli Radhakrishnan and Charles A. Moore, eds., A Sourcebook in Indian Philosophy (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1957), p. 274.
6. Quoted in Ibid., pp. 274-75.
7. Samuel Bercholz and Sherab Chödzin Kohn, eds., Entering the Stream: An Introduction to the Buddha and His Teachings (Boston: Shambala, 1993), p. 73.
8. Ibid., p. 77, words of Chögyam Trungpa.
9. Ibid., p. 79.
10. Heinz Bechert and Richard Gombrick, eds., The World of Buddhism: Buddhist Monks and Nuns in Society and Culture (London: Thames and Hudson, 1984), p. 28.
11. Radhakrishnan and Moore, Indian Philosophy, p. 278.
12. Based on Ibid., pp. 277-78, but with minor modification.
